Trauma

UnderOATH- Act of Depression

("All I ever wanted was someone to love me")
I tried to cry out from the inside, but I guess my soul did not pour itself out enough
Blood on the walls, flaming black, blood on the walls,
I saw you staring through the cracks
No one was to know what was happening in me I felt no love,
I felt no reason to carry on with my life
Everything was wrong, nothing was right, at least that is what I thought
Kids finding laughter at my expense
They were killing me on the inside they couldn't give up their pride
My heart was bleeding from so much grieving
On the outside I looked fine, you couldn't tell but on the inside was eternal hell
I got caught up in the moment of depression,
And before I knew it my bodywas lying on the ground
With a gun in my hand my hourglass was out of sand
Thanks to all the people who drove me to death
Without you I could of never ended my breath
Through your anger and hate, I was able to choose my fate
There was a way out, but I chose the easy route
Blast of a gun, breath runs out, final thoughts put to extinction
"No more love, no more pain," for you have chosen suicide as the way out...
Help them
Ice cold fingers, body lays on the floor,
Pool of blood you see, you scream out in terror
Her body is now a part of mutilation, her soul the victim of strangulation
I will not accept this evil anymore
I never thought of who I hurt or I never tried to look for the good
I'm sorry for whoever I hurt, it's not easy to look back on my life,
And know I did not know Christ
For now I live in a real hell
I wish I had another chance... then I would live my life with love

Circle Takes the Square- A Non-Objective Portrait of Karma

Ignorance is bliss no wise woman's failed to mention
and surely some koan suggests 'neglect leads to perfection'
but the more I turn my face from the crowd
the more I feel my backs' increasingly compelled
for the sake of escape, to turn a knife on itself,
a knife of relief, from all the petty insight
and finally I'll sleep, I'll sleep through the night.
Bored as **** with this street corner-cover.
study of a face in a figure. surveying this language as a game
surveilence of this language as the plague.
the dimension of persistence condemns.
This portrait of karma, crafted in accident
text book seduction, minus the text in the language of ghosts
and so we ran, like the wolves were biting,
the inhibitions of their prey kept them from screaming
"scratch my back and I will stab you in yours"
so I chose to live this life alone, without the teeth marks
but I predict, I'll have to sink my fangs in someone else's heart to heal my own.
just a victim's split, one part for the wolves, one part for you.
but I'll grow weary soon, weary of this fractal code,
weary of this hallway lined with ghosts.
just a scratch upon the skin, a drop of blood to let them in
their words will cause the sweetest fracture from a stone's throw
just a scratch upon the skin, a drop of blood to welcome them
parasitic, viral critics, or lovers, like spirits mingling in the mist
that we crafted, a starving jury, let them eat **** from our trembling hands.
The heat for heat's sake, on this Barnard block of Congress
deductively speaking, the polar of progress
well maybe I put too much faith in the accident
entranced, we danced toward the ripest display of escape
let the starving ghosts feats, from this flesh, from these bones,
let them all feast. In this chess game of language, forced to sit so I play all alone, watch the bathos drift forth like the petals from a wild crafted rose.

__________________
A mi no me importa nada
Para mi la vida es un sueño